


Happiness Is

by zeldadestry



Category: Peanuts
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-01
Updated: 2007-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:14:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happiness is a walk in the moonlight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness Is

**Author's Note:**

> Written for veracious in the New Year's Resolutions 2007 Challenge  
> 

Her father and her mother are working on their taxes together in the family room. “I’m going for a walk,” she announces.

Her mother looks up, brow furrowed. “Did you finish your homework?”

“Yes.” She still has some more reading to do, but she has her second period free each day and can get it done then.

“Did you finish your calculus homework?”

“Yes.” Her math grade was the only B on her most recent report card. Her mom disapproves of Bs.

“May I see it?”

“Mom, stop it! I told you I got a 94 percent on the last test. I’m doing great.”

“Lucy, don’t raise you voice.” Her father chimes in. “It isn’t ladylike.”

“Sorry,” she says, mentally prefacing the word with a vehement _I am not at all_. “Anyway, can I go for a walk?”

“May I go for a walk,” her parents say, in unison.

“May I?”

“You may,” her father says.

“Remember, honey,” her mother says, “if you get wait-listed, colleges will want to see your most recent grades.”

“I know.”

“They want to see As.”

“I _know_.”

Her mother frowns, shares a pointed look with her father. “Be home before ten,” she warns.

It’s a relief to leave them. She goes to the hall closet and pulls on her windbreaker. Delicious smells of cinnamon and vanilla drift from the kitchen and she follows them. Her brothers are there, taking the leftovers of the apple pie her mother made on Sunday afternoon out of the oven. “Hey,” Linus says.

“You want a piece?” asks Rerun.

“Save me one. And make it fair. Don’t even try sticking me with the tiniest piece.” Their eyes roll in unison. “And save me some ice cream, too. And don’t just stick me with the dregs, so that I have to scrape it out of the bottom of the carton.” Now they’re laughing at her, not even trying to hide it. “What? What’s so funny?”

“You are the bossiest person who ever lived,” Rerun says.

“I am not! That’s just ridiculous. There have been billions and billions of people on this earth.”

“Yeah, well, you’re still the bossiest. Queen Bossy.”

“I am not bossy!”

“Too bad you’re not as nasty as you used to be - Queen Mean rhymes.”

“I am not mean!”

“Maybe you’re just the grouchiest…move over Oscar - is there room in your trash can for my sister?”

“That’s nonsense. I’m one of the most cheerful people I know.”

“You?”

“That’s right, me!” They both burst into laughter again, and every time she stomps a foot, or shakes a fist, at them they just laugh harder. “You’re so immature!”

“Where you going, your highness?” Linus asks as she takes her key off its hook.

“Out for a walk,” she grumbles. They’re not scared of her anymore which means they get to tease her as much as they want.

“She’s going over to Schroeder’s,” Rerun smirks.

“Don’t tell,” she hisses. “I’ll make both your lives miserable if you tell!”

Linus’s hand rests on her shoulder for a moment. “We wouldn’t. We’re just teasing you.”

Rerun pats the top of her head. He’ll always be the baby of the family, but he’s also nearly a foot taller than she is. “You’re a nice little sister.”

“Thank you,” she says stiffly, gathering her dignity. She slips outside and stands for a moment on the back steps, breathing, thinking. It’s a warm night, early spring, and as she steps off their driveway and into the street, she sees the first firefly of the year, lighting up just ahead of her. The moon is round and honey colored, surrounded by a thick corona. It hangs low in the sky as she walks down their block, so close that she can imagine if she keeps walking, walks as far as she can, eventually she’ll reach a place where she can stand on her tippie-toes and reach up to touch it. At the corner she turns into the Brown’s front yard, walks quietly towards the dog house. Snoopy is resting inside and she bends down to say hello. He lifts his eyes and gives her a friendly whimper. He’s getting old. She stretches her hand out to him, scratches behind his ears and smiles when his tale wags in response. “Hey, boy,” she says. “Hey, sweet Snoopy, how you been?” She hears the front door open, hears a familiar tread approaching. “Hey, Charlie Brown.”

“Hi Lucy.” He crouches down beside her. “How’s my buddy?”

“He looks tired.”

“I know. I’m gonna bring him inside now.” He reaches his arms into the doghouse, gently draws Snoopy out and picks him up, cradles him like a baby.

Lucy stands beside them, tickles underneath Snoopy’s chin, pets his silky ears. “Good night, Snoopy,” she says.

“Good night, Lucy.”

“Good night, Charlie Brown.” She stays there, by the doghouse, until they get to the front door and disappear inside the house, then she continues her walk. The moon is still ahead of her, Orion to her right, and beyond the constellation of the hunter is a bright, bright star, so bright that she knows it must be a planet. She doesn’t know which one it is. Mars, Mercury, Venus, probably one of those three. There’s a sweet smell in the air, too, and again it’s nice not to know the exact word for it. It’s jasmine, it’s honeysuckle, both, neither, she doesn’t really know.

Her heart always starts racing when she turns onto Schroeder’s block. She used to try and will herself calm, but it only made things worse. Now she knows that she just can’t control her feelings. She just has to let her heart pound. He has the window open in his room, and as she walks up his front path she can hear his music. She doesn’t recognize it, hasn’t heard him play it before. He’s probably working on something new. She likes it. It reminds her of a Brahms lullaby.

She stands outside the window, rests her elbows on the ledge. His back is to her. She watches him play, the graceful sweep of his fingers over the keys, the sway of his torso, the bob of his head, as he lets the music travel through his body. He’s coming to the end of the song, she can tell by the way it slows, softens, he applies the pedal and it echoes into silence. He slumps slightly forward, drops his chin to his chest, hums the melody to himself. She knocks on the sill to let him know she’s there. He turns quickly, eyes wide. “Don’t do that.”

“Did I scare you?”

“Yeah.” He presses his hand to his chest. Has she made his heart leap? Good. Payback. “What’s up?”

“I’m taking a walk. Wanna go for a walk?” He checks his watch. She knows he’s calculating how much longer his parents will be awake, how much more time he’ll have to practice when he gets back.

“I want to, but...” he wavers.

“Come on, I really want to talk to you.”

He tilts his head from side to side, weighing his options. Then he nods. He climbs out the window, pulling it shut behind him. “Let’s go to the bridge.”

He likes the bridge because he likes the brook, he likes everything that has its own song. “Let’s.” They walk across the lawn, side by side. She points out the moon, the fireflies, Orion and the sweet smell of the flowering trees, and he nods, but she can tell he’s not really noticing what’s happening outside. He’s still inside, still humming under his breath, still with his music. When they reach the stone bridge they sit down, side by side on the ledge. “Why didn’t you tell me about Julliard?”

He starts. “Who told you?”

“Marcie. She thought I knew. She asked me if you were doing ok.”

“Don’t be mad.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I knew you’d be disappointed.”

“I’m not disappointed! They’re idiots! If they can’t tell how great you are then they don’t deserve you, those pretentious morons!”

“Hey, slow down. I never thought you’d be disappointed in me. I knew you’d be disappointed for me, you know? On my behalf.”

“Oh. Well, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. I just, I wanted to wait until I could tell you and when you asked if I was ok, I could honestly say yes.”

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“But you weren’t before?”

“I don’t know. It’s always hard to hear no, to feel like I failed. Honestly, though, I’m not sure I even wanted to go there. I’m not sure I’m ready to move to New York.”

“I was rejected at Stanford.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I didn’t even want to go there, either. But I don’t know what I’m going to tell my parents. Mom’s going to be so angry.”

“That’s stupid. It’s not your fault.”

“My mom will say it was, that I didn’t work hard enough. What did your parents say?”

“Not much. I think they want me to go to a more traditional college, anyway, where I can study music, yeah, but also everything else. I got into Oberlin and Williams and they both have good music programs.”

“Wait. Do you think you would want to study anything else?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I kind of realized, Lucy, last summer when I went to the Julliard camp...I realized I wasn’t as great as I thought I was.”

“You are! You’re amazing.”

“But there’s a lot of people out there who are amazing, too. And that’s ok. You know who I kept thinking of that summer, every time I would look around and realize that among that group I was average, maybe even less than average? I would think about Charlie Brown playing baseball. He’s no good at it. He’s never going to be good at. He couldn’t even make Varsity as a senior. But he keeps playing. He keeps playing and he has fun. And I asked him, and he told me he’ll always play, wherever there’s a league or a team that will have him, he’ll be there with his glove on. And it’s the same for me. As long as there’s a piano I can play, I will play and I will be happy.”

“Good Ol' Charlie Brown.”

“Good Ol' Charlie Brown.”

“Snoopy’s getting so old.”

“I know.”

“It’s sad.”

“I know.”

Strange, she thinks, so strange, how some parts of life are just sad, but other parts manage to be simultaneously sad and beautiful, wonderful. “What was that song you were playing?”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She watches him, speculates. “You wrote it, didn’t you?”

He ducks his head, laughs a little. “Yeah.”

“You are too talented, you know that? I hate you.”

“Hate me? You’ll change your tune once you know who inspired it.”

“Who?” she says, but she’s already guessed by the way he’s watching her, and her heart pounds fiercer than ever before.

“The most exasperating girl I know.”

“Thank you,” she says and means it.

They sit for a long time beside the water, serenade each other with their lips and fingertips.  



End file.
